The Woman I Am
by DrkVrtx
Summary: She is a mother, a wife, and the Avatar. Soon after the arrival of a child, a looming international issue causes Korra to consider whether her priorities lie with her family or her duty.
1. Chapter 1

_"Tensions remain high in the Earth Kingdom capital as discussions for a potential change in taxation laws continue. The Earth King is said to be unmoved in his stance to push for the laws' alteration, but is facing stiff opposition from key members of the State Council. _

_Commerce Minister Yang Wei has argued recently that the proposed changes will only yield an immediate, short term benefit, and that different approaches to the nation's economic difficulties should be given serious consideration. Mei Chengping, the Minister of Labour, spoke earlier this week about the dangers of overtaxing and the likelihood that the new parameters of the law, if successful pushed through, would lead to widespread dissent among the working classes._

_The Earth Kingdom, which plays a large role within the United Republic, is being closely monitored by the United Council as events unfold. Several ambassadors are currently residing within Ba Sing Se and engaging in talks with the Earth King and State Council. It is being questioned, however, whether Avatar Korra will soon be travelling to the capital herself to once again provide a neutral voice in these matters –"_

There is a click as the radio is switched off. I turn my eyes and see my husband standing behind the couch. His hand is the culprit, and silence envelopes the room as he moves away from the small table upon which the boxy device sits.

"You shouldn't be listening to that," he chides me gently. "The last thing you need is to stress yourself."

I nod, wearily. I know. "I know. But I have to."

He steps around to the front of the couch and frowns at me. "They have to learn to deal with their own problems. You can't be at the world's beck and call anymore."

I know, because we are a family now.

In my arms I cradle my daughter, soft and small. She is four months old, and even now I sometimes still think this is all a dream. That those nine months of heaviness and anxiousness are a product of my overactive imagination, and those long, painful hours of labour and the curses I screamed as I pushed and pushed are a cruel nightmare. But they aren't. It was real, and I cherish all of it for in my arms I hold the most beautiful creature in the world.

The couch sinks as Mako sits beside me. He takes a moment to rearrange the cushions at my back, ensuring as he always does that I am comfortable. He is so patient with me. I honestly don't know how he has kept his sanity. But for all that he is and all that he has done, I love him. His arm curves around my shoulders at the back of the couch and a smile comes easily to his lips as he looks down at our daughter. It's infectious, and I can't help but smile too.

We're silent as we watch her nurse at my breast. It's an enthralling sight, one I've yet to tire of. I have never known peace such as this, never felt as connected to another human being as I do now. That Mako is beside me, sharing his warmth and the comfortable weight of his body makes this moment all the more beautiful.

"What does it feel like?" he asked me once.

I didn't know how to reply. Even as I began to try and describe it, I could find no one word that truly answered him.

"Like nothing else," I said. "I feel so _close_ to her. It's joy, peace, comfort, love, happiness. It's wonderful, Mako."

I laughed afterwards when he told me I had made the best sales pitch he'd ever heard, and that he wanted to try it.

He gently strokes our daughter's hair before rising to his feet. I can sense his reluctance, but there is nothing he can do about it. I often tease him, telling him it's his own fault for being so proficient at his job. He's the head of his own department now, answering directly to Lin Beifong. I briefly consider the woman; she's pushing 60. It's been ten years since she retook her position as Chief of Police, but she still has the strength of a woman half her age.

"I've got to go," Mako tells me. I tilt my face and meet his lips. "I don't want to come back and see you listening to that," he says, pointing to the radio.

I chuckle. "Yes, dear husband."

He keeps up the stern charade only for a moment longer, and then it dissolves into a warm smile. After lightly kissing the brow of his daughter, whose eyes momentarily flit open upon the contact, he straightens. Longingly, he looks at us both.

"Off with you," I tell him. "You don't want to be late."

"Would it be a crime, to want to spend more time with my wife and child?"

"Lin will make it so just for you," I answer.

He smiles, but I can see the tiredness that draws his face. Neither of us can remember a full night of sleep.

"Go on," I say. "We aren't going anywhere."

With a sigh, he nods. "I'll call at lunch," he says, moving towards the door. "And don't make me have to confiscate this thing," he adds, tapping the radio on his way out. I only smile as I watch him leave. Soon I hear the sound of the front door closing.

I look down when I feel my daughter unlatching. "All done?" I whisper, and she opens her eyes and blinks gold up at me. I tuck my breast away and gently wipe the corners of her mouth with a small towel. Afterwards, I nestle her into my arms and softly sing. She doesn't fall asleep right away, her gaze intent as she studies my face and the movement of my lips. When I lean down to kiss her nose, her hands rise to my cheeks, fingers soft and small exploring my skin. I giggle, like the girl I once was when I first fell in love. But that's okay, because I'm in love all over again.

When her eyes fall shut, only then do I reach behind me and turn the radio back on. I keep the volume low, so as not to wake her. As I listen, my smile diminishes. I feel my happiness and contentment overcome by indecision and worry. I worry that if I don't step in, the Earth King will plunge his nation into a situation we barely avoided three years ago. But I can't just pick myself up and travel to Ba Sing Se. I'm a mother now, and my little girl needs me. I sigh and close my eyes as another thought comes to me a moment later.

I am the Avatar, and the world needs me too.


	2. Chapter 2

The room is dark, and I'm lying beneath the sheets. It's been a long day. I close my eyes, but despite how tired I feel, sleep won't come readily to me. I listen to Mako's footsteps as he leaves the bathroom and pads over to our daughter's room. They pause for a long moment, and I know that he is fondly watching her sleep. I'm imagining the soft smile that curves his mouth as he looks down at her in her cot. I haven't been able to smile all day.

Our room lies in between our daughter's and the bathroom. I soon hear Mako's footsteps resume, and it's not long before the covers are lifted and his weight and warmth settle behind me. He came back from work late today. He returned home to find our daughter peacefully sleeping. If only he knew how long it took me to soothe her. I feel his body shift as he draws closer to me. His arm curves lightly around my waist, and the pillows sink as he props himself up on an elbow. I feel his lips against the side of my neck, gentle and warm.

"How was your day?" he asks.

I've never known how Mako can tell whether or not I'm sleeping with a simple glance. I don't mind it, usually, but right now it's all I can do to keep irritation from rising to my face.

"Typical," I murmur.

She's been difficult for the past few days. Whenever I set her down, she demands to be picked up again. Sometimes I can't tell if she's complaining for hunger, to be changed, or simply for comfort. I've been so distracted. I went out earlier today to pick up a newspaper and a few groceries, and on the way back she cried for all the world to hear for my breast. It was embarrassing and annoying, to have so many people casting sympathetic looks in my direction.

"Our little girl's out like a light," he says softly, and I merely hum a reply.

His lips are upon my skin again, kissing a trail from my neck to my shoulder. "I've been thinking about you all day," he says, and I hear that familiar husk to his voice. It attempts to stir something within me, but the spark refuses to be lit.

I caught sight of my reflection as I passed a shop window last week. My face was lined with frustration and tiredness, shadows clinging to my eyes. I painted a depressing image, and the clothes I'd quickly thrown on to step outside did me no favours. When we got home, my daughter having finally gone to sleep after feeding, I stripped to my bra and panties and tentatively stood in front of the mirror. I didn't like what I saw.

I've always taken great pride in my body. As a girl, all that mattered to me was strength, power, definition. At first, I worried that Mako would take no joy in my shape. Republic City's women possessed a decidedly feminine grace that I lacked. I often looked at Asami with an uncertain envy. But Mako dashed my doubts the night he made me a woman. I remember so vividly the attentiveness to which he paid my form, how he gloried in my strength and shape. But pregnancy, birth and the lifestyle I've adopted since have stolen those from me. I don't feel beautiful. I don't feel sexy. He's lying when he calls me those things, surely.

I lie here as he teases my skin with his lips, wondering how he can still desire me. I don't feel desirable, haven't in days. Looking after our daughter is hard, tiring work. I make it even harder for myself by ignoring Mako's advice. The radio is constantly on in the background when he isn't at home, and I pore over the newspapers, fighting with my thoughts. I frown more than I smile. I sigh and huff more than I laugh. I avoid my reflection, and Mako's compliments become all the more ridiculous to me. Yet still, nonsensically, I can feel the sincerity of his desire in every kiss, as he breathes against my skin, as he plays his touch along my stomach and his hand slowly inches towards the hem of my nightshirt.

I'm so confused. I just want to sleep.

"No, Mako," I say, leaning away from his touch. "Not tonight."

"Babe…"

"I'm tired," I speak over him. The tone of my voice almost makes me wince as I hear it.

He suppresses a sigh, but I hear it anyway. I press my eyes shut tighter still, guilt beginning to well up within me. This isn't the first time I've refused him. I yearn for him and yet am repulsed by myself. I'm a walking contradiction, and I'm making my husband suffer for it. Long gone are our days of spontaneous passion, of forgetting all about the world outside and losing ourselves in each other, all because one morning we decided to start a family.

Mako leans over me and kisses me on the cheek. "Goodnight, Korra," he murmurs.

His voice is an open book to me. I hear his disappointment, his stifled desire, his need for me. How I wish I could throw away all my inhibitions and turn to face him as he grows still at my back, but I'm fearful. I don't know what I'll do if I see his expression fall or his hand pause as he explores my body. I've changed; does he know that? Can he accept that?

Can I?

I'm not ready to find out, not yet. So I curl into myself and remain awake behind closed eyelids. My thoughts turn to a city far away.


	3. Chapter 3

My head is pounding. It feels like there's someone stuck inside there, hammering away, indifferent to my pain and irritation. Whoever it is, they've been at work for a while. They were going at it all the way along my journey home.

The only thing I could think of doing once I got home was to retreat to the bedroom, curl up beneath the sheets and enjoy to the best of my ability some peace and quiet. However, I find myself sitting at the kitchen table, a newspaper spread out in front of me, and I've been frowning at it for the last ten minutes. My eyes are reading and re-reading the same sentences without taking in the words. I can't concentrate with all this noise!

The rooms are filled with the sound of our daughter's voice. I could hear her even as I walked up to the front door. I swear she started bawling louder still the moment I stepped into the house. Mako told me that he would take care of it, that I should go and get some rest. Well, I'd love to, but there's no way I'll be going to sleep with the way our daughter is crying for all the neighbours to hear.

I close my eyes against a particular pang within my skull, huffing irritably as I massage my temple. I can hear Mako's vain attempts to soothe our little girl. Cooing and shushing and pleading. I asked him what was wrong when I first came in, finding him walking to and fro in the living room with her held against his chest. He said he didn't know. He had fed her, burped her, changed her – she wouldn't stop crying. I hiss against my headache, against the noise, against his fruitless efforts to calm her down. For Spirits' sake, I think, pushing back the chair and getting to my feet, must I do everything myself?

"Mako, give her to me," I say, walking into the living room. He turns away from the window, our daughter held in his arms. Her eyes turn to me and she begins to complain, squirming in his embrace.

"It's fine, Korra –"

"Clearly it isn't."

He frowns, bouncing our daughter in his arms. "I'll settle her, alright? Go and get some rest. You need it. Don't worry about her."

"You've been trying for the last fifteen minutes and more," I say, walking up to them. She's leaning her head away from her father's chest now, eyes on me as her voice strains with effort.

"Korra –"

"Just give her to me," I snap, finally reaching the end of my tether.

His expression is sullen as he finally relents. I take her from him when he holds her out to me. Her crying is already quietening into sniffles as I lay her head against my shoulder and turn away to leave the room. When I take her upstairs, whispering as I gently stroke her hair, she turns her eyes down towards my breast, lips parting.

"You're hungry," I say, and she seems to whine her agreement, her little hands gripping the fabric of my top.

I take her to her room after she's fed, listening to the softness of her breathing. As I transfer her from my arms to her cot, I hear footsteps up the stairs and then along the landing towards our bedroom. When I hear Mako sigh, his weight settling onto the bed with a groan of springs, I begin to feel hooks of guilt at the pit of my stomach. I realise that I shouldn't have snapped at him as I lean over the side of the cot and look down at our daughter. I shouldn't have snatched her from him either, I think, chewing uncertainly on my lower lip.

"I've caused daddy a bit of trouble," I tell her as she looks up at me with his eyes. "I have to make it up to him."

I find Mako facing the window, sitting on the far side of the bed, hands hanging between his legs. His shoulders, broad and strong, are slumped, and I hate to think that I've only helped add to the weight he carries constantly upon them.

I join him on the bed and come up behind him, sitting on my knees. Wordlessly, I bring my hands up to his shoulders and begin to try and ease the tension from them. His body rocks slightly under my ministrations. Mako doesn't speak, and he doesn't turn to me. I can't see his expression, to try and read the look in his eyes. But I know that he is hurting.

"I'm sorry," I murmur then.

"It's alright," he replies, his voice empty and low.

"No, it isn't."

I can see now, with eyes that aren't clouded by irritation and impatience. I see his insistence for me to let him calm down our daughter. I see how he holds onto her even as she strains and reaches for me. I see the pain in his eyes as I take her from him and she immediately begins to quieten.

"Tell me what's wrong," I say, bringing my hands down from his shoulders to his arms, fingers ghosting along the curve of his bicep before reaching his elbow. He remains quiet as I tuck my hands beneath his arms, bringing them to the sides of his waist.

"Mako," I whisper his name, leaning close, my chest against his back. I breathe it again, just before I bring my lips to his cheek. I've known him like this before, when he becomes a stone, when he takes all his pain and his thoughts and bottles them up within himself. But I know how to reach him. I learned how to get past the walls he had become so adept at forging.

I kiss his cheek, his ear, the side of his neck, all the while murmuring his name, all the while knocking at the door of his heart, patiently seeking invitation. I bring my arms around his waist, holding him close. Here, the complications of my identity and tumultuous thoughts are non-existent. I am simply a wife, one who wishes to share the burden of her husband, to hear words spill from tightly pressed lips.

"Mako," I call once more, murmuring against his skin. I'll never tire of his name upon my tongue. I can feel the walls breaking. He gives no outward sign of it, but I know.

"Tell me what's wrong?" I say, tilting my head to lightly kiss his collarbone. I smile a moment later when a sigh escapes his lips. He's always been particularly sensitive there. He brings a hand up to meet mine above his stomach, and then he begins to speak. I rest my head upon his shoulder and listen.

"I feel like you don't need me, either of you," he says. "I feel like I hardly know our daughter, like she hardly knows me. It seems like whenever I pick her up or hold her, she wants you instead. You know her better than I do. You're here with her while I'm spending all hours of the day stuck at work. She's barely awake when I leave, and sleeping by the time I get back. It feels like I'm missing every single day of her life. I just…I just don't know what to do when you leave her with me."

I don't speak as he gives pause. I know there's more he needs to say. So I give him the time and space he needs to say it.

"I'm confused, Korra. I'm lost. I love you, but you won't let me show you I do. I still think you're beautiful. And sexy. And gorgeous. I want you, more than anything. You're all I think about. The thought of you gets me through the day. But when I come home…we spend what little time we have before tomorrow arguing and complaining and snapping at each other. And even then, I still want you. I want to be close to you, to hold you, to make love to you. But you don't want to. You'll say you're tired, or you'll feign sleep before I come to bed. I can tell the difference," he says.

"I understand," he continues, "you're looking after our daughter, day after day. It isn't easy. But, Korra, I love you. Sometimes…sometimes I ask myself if you still love me."

I can hear in his voice that he thinks poorly of what he just said. He knows I still love him. I know I still love him. But perhaps I haven't really showed him I do, not for a while. I can hear the need for reassurance in his words, as a father and a husband. I'm not sure what I can say in return. But I can show him.

"Give me your hands."

He holds them up with my direction, palms facing towards the ceiling. With my arms still curved around his body, I position my hands above his, a small distance between us. I send forth my will and a spark is conjured into being at my fingertips. It swiftly blossoms and becomes a flame, bright and orange and warm. I cause it to grow further, pushing it towards his hands. It's a reckless, dangerous act – were we not who we are.

Rather than being burned, Mako brings the flame under his control, stealing the bite from its heat. I wait patiently, focused upon the bridge we are building together. The fiery bulb hangs in the air between us, tongues of flame flitting from its depths. It's not long before it can neither be defined as belonging to me or Mako. It is the perfect balance of our will, harmonious and delicate and deadly all in the same moment.

We work to temper its heat as the flame grows ever larger, ever stronger, feeling only a soft breath of warmth as its tongue licks our flesh. The true strength of its heat lies at its centre, and if either of us merely slip, this will all end in catastrophe. But we won't. He won't. I won't.

There is no need for words now. Words would have failed me had I tried to produce them. I imbue the flame with love, with desire, with passion, and Mako responds in kind. He speaks more loudly and more deeply than he ever did with his voice, and something within me swells, a spark within me struck and flaring brighter than the sun.

Warmth is flooding through my being. Walls crumble as it meets them, worries and doubts purged in a flash of heat. I almost buckle beneath its strength. I never knew; I _never knew._ He desires me so. He yearns for me more than food or water or air. And I never realised just how desperately I need him, too.

The flame gradually shrinks, flickering and dissipating into nothingness. But it is not gone. Mako turns, and his golden eyes are imbued with its heat.

I succumb, willingly and with a wholesome, wonderful thrill rising up from my core. His lips are upon mine without a moment's delay. His hand upon my cheek guides me into a deeper kiss, and I fall back onto the bed. My arms loop around his neck, pulling him down with me. I delight in his weight, his warmth, his fingers upon my skin, his desire to have me, all of me, no matter what I thought of myself.

Mako whispers my name as I lie naked before him. I gasp his, holding onto him for all I'm worth. He takes us towards the edge, towards that blissful horizon I once fled from. There is no shame now, no doubts or worries to hold me back. Skin upon skin; our breaths heavy and short; his eyes roving over my form, hungry and appreciative – I glory in all of it. And when we finally meet that edge, after we tumble into the depths of our passion and desire and I hold him close, our bodies tired, aching and slick with sweat, I whisper "I love you," and he does not hesitate to respond.


	4. Chapter 4

A new day breaks and I am the first to wake. I can feel Mako's chest slowly swelling and falling against my back, his breathing soft. Usually, he is well awake before I am. In slumber he holds me close, and my fingers are tucked between his at my stomach. I feel invigorated, alive, even despite having to get up during the middle of the night to feed our little girl. I feel warm and content, a weight I didn't know I was burdened with eased from my shoulders.

A desire springs up within me as I settle into my wakefulness. Rarely do I get the chance to watch Mako sleep, to simply watch him in that peaceful, oblivious state where all his responsibilities fall away and he is at ease. I detach my hand from his and turn carefully, though the sheets still ruffle and the bed murmurs as I shift my weight. Eventually, my gaze falls upon him, though when it does all I can do is pout with disappointment. Mako is already awake, golden eyes very much open and mouth curved into a smile.

"Hey," he whispers.

I accept his kiss upon my brow. "How long have you been up?"

"For a while."

I shouldn't be surprised. I've never had the affinity for rising early that he has. The thought that he lay awake at my back simply holding and watching me until I woke lends a smile to my face. Even in the smallest of things, Mako helps me to feel safe, comforted and desired. Even now, as he softly pushes strands of hair away from my eyes and tucks them behind an ear, so that he may stroke his thumb along my cheek. I love him.

"I love you," he returns.

Effortlessly, he strips me of all my titles and reminds me that underneath I am still Korra, his Korra, his love and life. In return I admire him, I appreciate him, and I remind Mako that he will always be the man who forms the crux of my existence. In the glowing wake of our passion, we lie together in each other's arms, merely listening to the city beyond the window begin to wake. And, of course, our little girl along with it.

"I'll take care of her," he says as we hear soft noises of complaint from the room beside ours.

I capture his mouth in another kiss before he slips out of bed. The lingering kiss Mako returns almost has me looping arms around his neck to pull him down again. He looks decidedly pleased with himself as he shrugs on a dressing gown and leaves the room. I smile, propping myself up on an elbow and gazing out of the window. I remind myself of the arrangement I made with Tenzin to meet today and, somewhat reluctantly, pull myself up out of bed. I pull on my own dressing gown and step out onto the landing, turning towards the bathroom. I pause as I hear babbling and Mako's soft voice.

Turning, I quietly make my way over to the room next to ours, standing just at the edge of the door and peeking inside. Mako is standing beside the cot, leaning over the side and drawing gurgles and laughter from our daughter. I see her little hands held up in front of her, trying to catch her father's as he tickles beneath her chin. Her feet shuffle beneath her blanket as Mako moves his hands to her sides, and then to her stomach. I listen to him murmur her name and make silly noises, very much thorough in his bout of tickling as he is in all other things. In the end, she manages to catch hold of a finger, promptly exploring the curve of his knuckle with her mouth.

Mako looks up when I chuckle, an infectious smile upon his face. It seems that yesterday's difficulties are all forgiven. Perhaps my little girl felt the need to make it up to her father too.

"You'll be okay, right?" I say, standing near to the front door, dressed and ready to go.

"Yeah, we'll be fine," Mako replies. "Say hello to Tenzin and the family for us."

I nod and turn down to our daughter, held in his arms. "They'll be sorry not to see you this time," I tell her, bringing my hand up to stroke her cheek.

"Please don't go making any promises, Korra," Mako says then, and when I meet his gaze he looks at me pointedly.

"I'm not going there for that," I tell him, "just to talk."

He looks a little sceptical.

"Relax," I say. "I won't make any decisions without telling you first."

He raises an eyebrow as he leans away from our daughter's curious hand near his mouth. "Telling me, or discussing with me?"

I sigh in exasperation. "You know what I mean, Mako." I lean forward to kiss them both on the lips. "I'll see you later."

An hour later, I find myself sitting across from my once airbending tutor in his home office. Just as with Lin the years are beginning to show, age lining the tall man's features. But if anything it grants him a more profound air of wisdom, and it is that which I have come to seek.

"I'm worried about what will happen if things are allowed to spiral out of control," I say, leaning back against the chair, my hands folded into my lap. "The Earth King is overestimating the reach of his authority and underestimating his people."

Tenzin spreads his hands. "You understand how these things take time and a delicate approach, Korra."

I nod. "I do, but every day I feel more strongly that I need to be there in person. I read it in the newspapers and hear it on the radio broadcasts. Everyone and every nation is watching and waiting for me to make my move, Tenzin. But…"

"But?" he prompts when I fall silent and purse my lips, dropping my gaze.

"It was easier for you," I say eventually. I look across through the half open door, briefly watching Meelo tease his younger brother in the room opposite the office. I turn back to Tenzin. "Your work was always here in Republic City, along with your family."

The man gives a small shake of his head. "That is partly true. My work often kept and still keeps me in and around City Hall. There are long days and longer nights, and oftentimes they keep me from returning to the Island, or if I do it is only for a moment, to briefly rest my head before setting myself to task once more."

"I don't think I could keep my sanity if I had to live through a day without seeing my daughter," I reply. "I would worry and fret, and I wouldn't be able to think of anything but her. I can't leave her, not now. What if she took ill? What if there was an accident, or –?"

"Korra," Tenzin interrupts me gently. "Do not make the mistake of thinking you are raising her alone. Pema and even the acolytes are here in my stead when I cannot be, and I trust and depend upon them. I am certain that Mako is a more than capable father."

"He is," I say, though my voice is tinged very slightly with worry and uncertainty. It makes me feel guilty to hear it.

"And I'm sure that you could both rely upon his brother, should the need arise," he continues.

"Mm…"

"And, Korra, Pema and I would have no issues with helping to look after your daughter in your absence. I would like to think that at this point, you consider us family."

"I do," I reply, bringing a hand up to massage my temple. "I do, Tenzin, and thank you. I understand what you're trying to tell me," I say, meeting his grey-blue eyes. "I just don't feel ready to leave my daughter yet, and I know it's selfish. I'm the Avatar, after all." I tilt my head, gazing up at a point near the ceiling as I sigh heavily. "Every man, woman and child in this world deserves their little piece of me too."

Tenzin speaks again after a notable pause. "Even as the Avatar, I would not suggest that you forget to serve your own needs. Let us be realistic, Korra; you cannot address all of this world's problems, nor solve all its issues."

"No," I agree slowly, from memory, from experience.

"There is a way to make your voice heard, however, without the need of your presence."

"Do tell," I say.

Tenzin begins to search his desk as he speaks. "I watched my father do this on more than one occasion, when he too could not bear to be away from his family. The word of the Avatar will always carry a sense of weight, Korra – you have cultivated your own brand in particular," he adds, and at that I smile.

"Sometimes," Tenzin continues, eventually laying hands upon what he sought, "the mere threat of your presence will be more influential than the actuality."

He turns his gaze upon me, a slight smile hiding behind his greying beard.

"I don't think you realise just how much of a threat yours would be."


	5. Chapter 5

It's late into the afternoon by the time I return home. I spent a while at the Island.

Pema all but interrogated me as to how I and my daughter are getting along. I know she cares sincerely for our wellbeing, but sometimes it can be a little…grating. I must remind myself to be grateful though, as Pema has become like a mother to me over the years. Where experience is concerned, she is more than qualified to counsel me. So, I keep my pride at bay and listen to what she has to tell me, even if, as I sometimes remind her, she has told me such things before.

The kids are the main reason I stayed so long however, though perhaps I cannot call them such any longer. Meelo and Ikki are teenagers, the latter on the cusp of adulthood. With age comes maturity, supposedly; both are just as energetic as ever, if a little more refined in how they choose to express it. Rohan will be tall like his father, I can see it already. His nature leans more towards that of his eldest sister, though his brother appears to have rubbed off on him a little.

Jinora, who I am quietly most fond of, is both now a woman and the world's second fully fledged airbender. She is soon to fly the nest, as they say. I can see her readiness to experience life beyond the four walls her father built around her. I can also sense Tenzin's reluctance to set her on her own path. It is something I have promised her I would discuss with him, but the timing just hasn't been right. Soon, I think to myself, once everything else has worked itself out.

As I step into the house, pushing the door shut behind me, I am greeted with perfect silence. It is a foreign sound to my ears. I peek into the living room and kitchen, finding them both empty, before I disrupt it, calling out for my husband.

"Mako?"

There is no reply. I clamp down on the thoughts that try to rush to the forefront of my mind. If something was wrong, I would have sensed it immediately. I would have known it the moment it happened. Still, as I set aside my boots and approach the stairs, I feel the beat of my heart as I begin to frown.

When I reach the top of the stairs and step up onto the landing, my eyes go straight to the half open door of our daughter's room. My gaze does not need to linger; her cot is empty. I rein in my thoughts, though my throat feels a little tight, and walk across to our bedroom.

"Ma –"

A finger is held up to a pair of familiar lips as I appear in the doorway, and as I see them I release the breath I didn't know I was holding. Mako is stretched out on the bed, his arm curved around our little girl as she lies peaceably upon his bared chest. I softly exhale and step into the room, with a growing smile moving around the foot of the bed and approaching his side. Once there, I crouch down beside them. Mako turns his head and I quietly kiss him in greeting. Afterwards, I gently stroke our daughter's hair, listening to her soft, slow breaths as she sleeps.

"How did this happen?" I whisper, gesturing at the two of them.

"It was kind of an accident," Mako murmurs in return, speaking slowly. "I picked her up in between the process of changing shirts, and I guess my chest is just a really comfortable place to be."

"I think I can attest to that," I reply, and his smile is crooked.

"Like mother, like daughter?"

I rest my chin on my forearms, looking up at him. "Could be," I say softly. "How long has she been asleep?"

"For a while," Mako answers, lightly stroking her cheek with his thumb. "A little over an hour, I think."

"Well," I say, "now we know what to do when she needs to be settled."

Mako laughs. We both fall silent as our daughter stirs, shifting her cheek against her father's chest. When she falls still, I raise a finger to my own lips and stare accusation at my husband. He gives a small smile and shrug of apology.

"How are Tenzin and the family?" he asks then.

"They're all doing okay," I reply. "Everyone sends their regards. Ikki looked about ready to kick me off the island for coming alone, though."

Mako smirks, though his expression grows a little more serious afterwards. "How about your talk with Tenzin? I hope –"

I reach forward and press my fingers to his lips. "Relax, all we did was talk. Tenzin gave me some advice," I tell him after taking away my hand. "I think I have a way to settle our dilemma, which doesn't involve me leaving, no," I add when Mako's eyes narrow.

"I'm intrigued," he says with a raised eyebrow.

I lean forward and plant a light kiss upon our daughter's brow. Afterwards, I begin to rise to my feet. "I'm going to write a letter," I tell him.

I am sitting at the kitchen table a few minutes later, several sheets of paper lying neatly stacked beside me, and an elegant, navy-blue pen ready and waiting in my left hand. It was a gift from Mako almost five years ago, and it's the pen I always bring with me when I attend Council meetings. It hasn't been used for anything other than 'official business', as my husband would put it. I think what I'm about to write qualifies as such.

This is the first time I've written a missive, in my own capacity at least. During my years of Avatar training, the writing of official documents was something in which I was tutored – though I never did pay much attention. I took things a little more seriously when Tenzin coached me shortly upon our return from the South Pole, when I first expressed an interest in getting more involved in the Council's work. I would be lying if I said that I am not a little nervous about doing this. There is a subtle, delicate balance I wish to maintain. Much as I need to appear courteous, my words must have impact. Tenzin showed me how to frame the missive after suggesting it to me, and I keep his pointers in mind as I set the pen to the first sheet of paper.

Over an hour later, as I screw up the third attempt and pull a fourth sheet of paper towards myself, I pause for a moment as I hear Mako's footsteps above me. I roll my shoulders wearily as I hear them walk over to our daughter's room. A prominent ache has knotted itself into my neck, and I'm reminded that my posture really is terrible. But all I want is to put words to paper without sighing in frustration and hating them a few minutes later. I feel a slight pulse at my temple as I stare down at my latest attempt. No less than three lines in, and already I'm having to fight the urge to reach for a new sheet of paper.

I close my eyes and lean back against the chair, lifting a hand to massage my temple as the other slowly turns the pen between my fingers. My ideas seemed so clear to me when I talked this through with Tenzin, but now they seem to become increasingly intangible with each half written letter I screw up and toss aside. I hear Mako crossing the landing towards the bathroom as I exhale and, with reluctance I realise, return pen to paper.

I'm not sure how much time has passed when I hear him coming down the stairs. I'm not sure how this most recent effort has escaped being tossed aside with the others. I sit at the table with my right hand almost absentmindedly massaging slow circles at my temple, my left dipping to the paper and drawing a thick dark line through yet another string of characters. This is how Mako finds me, when he comes into the kitchen. I only realise how tightly wound my neck and shoulders are when I feel his hands upon them.

"I could hear you muttering from upstairs, Korra," he says then, and I sigh in response. I place the pen down on the table and lean back, lifting my hands to rub at the corners of my eyes.

"This isn't going well," I admit to him.

"You should take a break."

But I shake my head. "I need to finish this."

Mako catches my hand before I can take up the pen again. "Afterwards," he says.

I look up at him as he takes my hand in his. "After what?"

"You'll see," he says, and he draws me up from my seat. "Come on."

We leave the kitchen, heading up the stairs and onto the landing. I cast a brief glance into our daughter's room as Mako leads me towards the bathroom, whose door is pulled shut. I am already quite curious as he reaches forward and turns the handle, slowly pushing the door open. What I see steals words from my lips.

Several lilac candles are placed around the room, small flames glowing softly, and the scent of lavender is upon the air as Mako guides me over the threshold. I turn to see the bath filled with water, thin wisps of steam curling upwards. The firebender in me always liked my water drawn hot. A soothing fragrance rises to meet me from its surface, and it's as though I can already feel my muscles loosening, the knots in my neck and shoulders aching to be teased apart. So I wasn't imagining things then; I had earlier thought that I could hear water running. I just had no clue this was what Mako had planned for me.

"Then I've done my job right," he replies with a smile. "Take the rest of the day off," he tells me, placing a large, impossibly soft roll of towel I didn't even know we owned into my hands. "I'd say you've earned it."

Words could perhaps express my gratitude, but I simply can't think of any at the moment. My husband is smiling all-knowingly as I look from the candles to the bath and then back to him. It's endearingly irritating, I think, how well this man knows me sometimes. I chuckle at the thought, and lightly tug him forward onto my lips by the front of his now present shirt. I almost wish he wasn't wearing it.

"Tempting," Mako says in response, "but knowing our daughter, we're due for an interruption soon enough. "Now," he turns me around to face the room and lightly pats me on the bum, "go and relax, babe. Don't worry about anything else but yourself."

The door is quietly pulled shut behind me, and warmth blossoms in my chest as I look once more upon everything that has been done for me. How such a small thing, done without my asking or even conscious desiring of it, can make me feel so happy, so loved, how it can make me smile 'till my cheeks ache and have me blinking away inexplicable tears, I don't know. But perhaps it needs no explanation.

The scented water fulfils every promise and I am soothed almost to the point of unconsciousness. No longer tight and anxious, no longer trying to force my thoughts into order but abandoning them entirely, the words I need to say come to mind with peaceful cohesion. I can see the characters neatly drawing themselves on the back of my eyelids, dark, elegant lines embodying all the meaning I would wish to express. Per my husband's instructions, I don't touch the letter again until the following morning. When I do, it practically writes itself.

* * *

**A/N: I'll take this moment to show my appreciation for all your reviews and such thus far, and for simply taking the time to read this story. It's an interesting experiment on my part, writing from the first person perspective of the opposite gender, and I hope I'm doing Korra justice. As to the name of the baby, which I'm surprised more people haven't asked about, I simply don't know what she's called. Perhaps as LoK officially progresses, if Mako/Korra start a family, we'll find out then.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

It hasn't worked.

It's been almost two weeks since I sent my missive, to be personally read by the eyes of the Earth King himself. Those were my explicit instructions, and my word should carry enough weight for it to be, at the very least, considered. But I expected it to be adhered to. It seems, however, that either my missive did not reach the Earth King, or it did and has simply been dismissed. I lean towards the latter possibility.

The situation in Ba Sing Se is deteriorating by the day. The signs are there. They aren't huge, headline dominating signs, but for those who know how to read them, they are there. My husband can't see what I can, so he does not fully appreciate all that is going on. He has counselled me to be patient since the day I wrote the missive. He continues to counsel me as such when I begin to meet more frequently with Tenzin and the United Council. He advises me over and again, though never directly, that I need not commit myself so readily to this issue, that I have done what I needed to do and that I should now leave things in the hands of others.

I wish I could.

From experience, personal and otherwise, I recognise arrogance. The Earth King is pushing, day upon day; testing the boundaries to see how far he can get them to bend. But they are brittle, and close to snapping. I can see it, and so can Tenzin. But Mako doesn't.

I snapped at him earlier in the week, when he tugged a newspaper from underneath my fingers. And again, when I decided to attend a Council meeting late into the evening the following day. I wish that I hadn't. I wish I could not read my husband's eyes so well, because I am forced to look directly at a possibility I have shunned to the corners of my own sight, one I have not quite dismissed as I perhaps should.

Today is another day however; a new day, and I resolve not to think about the things that have dominated my thoughts for the past several. Instead, I focus only on my little girl and the time I'm spending with her.

We're sitting on the floor in the living room, my daughter resting against me between my legs and a small bowl sitting on the ground between my outstretched feet. I'm showing her waterbending for the first time, her first personal display of bending at all, in fact.

When I've brought her along with me to visit Air Temple Island, the children do not bend around her, per my askance, their mother's stern instruction, and Tenzin's mere look. I know how excitable they can be, and I remember how enthusiastic I was when I discovered my own bending. The charred walls, pitted floor and overflowing basins of my parent's home were testament to that. I do not want my daughter to be frightened by bending, but I want her to understand, even if unconsciously for now, that there exists a strange and wonderful energy in all the elements that surround her. I'm going to show her that her mother can harness that energy, and that it will bring no harm to her, nor give her reason to fear.

The hand that she is not gripping and playing with, I lift into the air so that she can see it. Her babbling pauses when I turn my wrist and curl my fingers inwards, beckoning a thin string of water from the bowl in front of us. Her attention is caught in an instant, and when I glance down, her eyes are unblinking and attentive, mouth open as though in wonder. I smile warmly and beckon the water a little closer, just outside her reach.

I don't need to gesture with my hand as much as I do to make the string of water loop and turn through the air, but I do so for her benefit, so that she can make a connection between it and the peculiar things the water is doing. As I'd hoped, her eyes turn from the water to my raised hand and back again, particularly as I make a show of pushing it away and then pulling it back towards us. When I do, she soon lifts her own little hands and makes grabbing motions, leaning forwards. I hold her back with my hand at her stomach, but I bring the water closer.

"This is waterbending," I tell her simply, and she babbles as the long string is made to dance before her eyes. "Are you going to be a waterbender, like mommy?" I wonder aloud.

My daughter has her father's eyes and black hair, though the tone of her skin is closer to mine than it is to Mako's. Her smile slants in the same direction as his typically does, and she laughs loud and long like her mother. We've discussed both before and after her birth which element she might bend, my being the Avatar making things a little more challenging to predict.

I once asked Katara, during a visit to the South Pole while I was pregnant, whether it was possible for the child to inherit earth or airbending. She told me first that she was no expert, and then that she surmised that despite my capability to manipulate all four elements, waterbending was the inherent ability with which I was born, passing down from my father to me, and so that was the one she thought would be passed down to my child.

Katara thinks my daughter will be a waterbender, and Mako shares the sentiment. I'm not so sure. I don't really mind whether she will eventually bend with utter brilliance or not at all. However, if I'm honest with myself, I know my daughter is going to be a firebender. I was the one being kept awake at night and uncomfortable throughout the day by frequent hot flashes that seemed to last for hours, after all. The joys of pregnancy. I was told that was an entirely normal affair for a pregnant woman, but I am getting used to this thing they call 'mother's intuition'.

I lean down and rest my cheek lightly against my daughter's, afterwards lifting my right hand as I call a second string of water from the bowl. Her babbling is punctuated by laughter, both as I make the water loop elaborately through the air, and as I blow raspberries into the crook of her neck. She's always liked that, particularly when her father does it.

All the while, I speak softly to her, answering to the enthusiastic sounds she makes with smiles and laughter of my own. First and foremost, I want her to feel comfortable around bending, and safe. Showing her waterbending first was a conscious choice on my part. The element is calm and non-intrusive. She's also seen and interacted with moving water before, when we bathe her, so this is almost a natural progression of that experience.

It brings warmth to my smile and heart when I notice my little girl imitating the movements of my hands. Her grabbing motions are accompanied by similar turns of the wrist, and once I study their pattern, I make the water move according to them. She has inherited that gleam of intelligence that sparkles in her father's eyes, and it shines in her own now.

I'm inexplicably proud. I know such content and happiness, to simply be able to share this moment with my daughter, to see her laugh and smile and turn at the sound of my voice when I speak. She is a warm and wonderful presence against me, her gaze bright with powerful curiosity and each sound she makes bubbling with fascination. For a moment, all I can do is close my eyes and rest against her. I can't find the words to truly describe how I feel, to properly paint the picture of the emotions that blossom in my chest.

I open them again when I feel something cool splashing my face. Determined, my little girl leaned forward and slapped at the ribbon I'd unknowingly brought within her reach. And now she's laughing like a maniac. It's difficult not to join in, particularly when I look and see that she has droplets of water all over her face. Well done, you little menace.

"If you are a waterbender, we're all in trouble," I say, gently wiping her face dry with my sleeve. She just keeps laughing.

I turn my head when I hear the telephone ringing. "We can play again afterwards," I tell my daughter when she makes a noise of complaint. I pick her up after returning the water back to the bowl, settling her against my hip. The telephone sits on a small table out in the corridor, and her hands are already reaching forwards to explore it when I pick it up.

"Hello?"

I can take a good guess as to who is calling, given the time of day, but it's better to play it safe than risk embarrassment. A secretary or two has been greeted more fondly than they probably expected to be.

"Hey babe, it's me."

Thought so.

"Lunch hour check-in?" I say.

"Mm. How is everyone?"

"We're doing fine. Say hello to daddy," I tell our daughter, bringing the bell of the listening device close to her ear. She babbles more in curiosity of the peculiar thing from which her father's voice appears to be coming than in greeting. I bring it back to my own ear after a few moments.

"Listen, Korra," Mako says, "I'll be coming home a little earlier today."

Strange. He more often than not has to tell me that he'll be coming back later than he'd planned.

"Is something wrong?" I ask, thinking I hear a slight tightness in his voice.

"No," he answers, and then, "I'll see you later."

And just like that, before I can even ask around what time I should expect him, Mako hangs up. Bemused, I set down the telephone, looking at it for a long moment as though it will provide me answers. Whether she senses my mood and seeks to distract me, or simply wants to return to play, my little girl starts imitating the movements of my hands again, looking up at me with askance in her eyes.

I smile with uncertainty at first, as my bemusement is slowly tinged with concern. Now that I think about it, my husband's voice _did_ seem a little tight. Has something happened at work? Like questions begin forming in my mind as I return to the living room, and persist throughout the day. The only respite I get from them is the moment where my daughter reaches towards the bowl and I see the surface of the water ripple, just for a second.

Well, they never told me mother's intuition was perfect.


	7. Chapter 7

It's getting late into the afternoon when I put my daughter down for a nap. She's been smiles and laughter all day, and has more than tired herself out. She yawns wide and lifts her hands to rub at her eyes as I take her upstairs. When I set her down in her cot and draw the blanket up past her stomach, I stand by and watch her drift to sleep without a moment wasted. I watch the rise and fall of her chest and listen to the rhythm of her breathing, gently stroking her cheek with a finger. I've never been able to get over how soft her skin feels, and how I can so completely lose track of time by simply watching her sleep. This time, however, I am somewhat distracted.

After ensuring she is comfortable, I make my way back down the stairs and begin waiting for my husband. In the absence of information and despite my telling myself not to, my concerns deepen as I think of the telephone call over and again. It does not take long for me to convince myself there's something wrong, and I sit in the living room with the radio on, listening both to it and for the sound of keys in the front door. The latter occurs just over an hour after my putting our daughter to bed, as I'm passing through the hallway into the kitchen to get a glass of fruit juice. I pause with one foot over the threshold and my hand trailing along the doorframe, taking a step backwards as I hear a metallic jangle.

Mako pushes the door open, his set of keys in one hand and briefcase in the other. He pockets the first as he turns to shut the door behind him. As I step out of the kitchen proper and he turns to face me, I can see that he is unsmiling, even when I greet him. His lips are pressed thin as he remains silent, eyes hard upon me, and for a moment I wonder what I've done, that he should stare at me like that.

"Honey?" I say as he begins to approach me. "What's wrong?"

Mako says nothing, nothing at all. He pauses on his way over to me merely to crouch and place his briefcase on the floor at the foot of the stairs. My gaze turns upwards to meet his as he draws closer, for Mako is almost a head taller than I am. At this short distance, before he erases it entirely, I get the chance to read his eyes properly. It has been so long since I last saw such intensity in them. It's a different man who is walking towards me now, and my throat tightens at the sight of him. My lips part as his crashes into them.

When hunger snares him like this, Mako is overtaken by something primal. He is greedy, selfish and powerful, pulling and pushing as he growls the depths of his want against my flesh. I answer to it, though I know not quite where this mood in him stems from. I trust him not to hurt me, even as my back meets the wall hard and he looms over me like a predator. Mako knows my strength. He knows that I can take it when he decides to play rough and take charge.

I submit, and let myself become his prey. I offer myself up to him, and Mako holds me in place with his eyes alone. His hands are to either side of my head, his golden gaze piercing so deeply into me. His presence dominates my space, and I can't move. I can't breathe and I can't look away. I read that simple intention in the look he gives me. He is going to take me, here and now. And then his mouth descends to claim mine.

Everything becomes a blur, of sight and sound and smell and touch, and the taste of him is all I know. Mako bears down on me, and I gasp as tongue and teeth bruise the flesh of my throat. I enter the kitchen backwards, almost stumbling, but he holds me upright. His jacket is tossed to the ground. My top is worked up over my head as I feel the edge of a table pushing against the back of my legs. My hands are tugging at his belt as he blindly sweeps an old newspaper and a basket of fruit to the ground. Luckily, there is no crockery present.

The beat of my heart is a war drum as he snarls impatience, finally exposing me to cool air of the room. His skin is soon hot and beaded with sweat, pressed flush against mine. His body is locked between my legs, my arms clinging to his neck as single-mindedness takes him utterly and completely. There is a moment spared for one clumsy kiss, but it's what neither of us want or need right now.

I can hardly breathe, and my body, splayed out across the table, is burning up beneath Mako's ravenous gaze. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I'm hoping dearly that the table won't break beneath me. Another voice decides it's a good moment to remind me that this is the place where we eat. I ignore them both as Mako's hands and eyes rove, too far caught up in the thrill of this moment to care. And then the kitchen is filled with the sound of choked grunts, and his fingers dig into my hips.

I quietly run my fingers through his hair when he rests his brow against my chest, breathing heavily. He kisses me there and then lifts himself up, and I along with him. After we each retrieve enough items of clothing to somewhat paint a picture of decency, Mako draws up a tossed aside chair and I sit across his lap. Cooler heads make for a better coordinated kiss, and we share several before one of us speaks.

"What's gotten you?" I say, arms around his neck.

Mako kisses my collarbone before looking up at me. "I was thinking about you all day," he replies.

"Aren't you always?" I tease.

"This was different."

I raise an eyebrow. "How so?"

"You were a distraction I couldn't ignore," he answers.

I smirk. "So you just abandoned your post to come and deal with said distraction."

"At the earliest convenience," Mako says, smiling. "There are some perks to being head of your own department."

I take a hand from around his neck and flick him on the forehead. "I thought something was wrong. You had me worried, City Boy."

It's Mako's turn to raise an eyebrow. "How have I not outgrown that nickname yet?"

I shrug, smile, and then lean down to kiss him. He returns it, but afterwards when I draw away, I see that his expression has changed. There is a hint of plea in his eyes even before he speaks, and the way they begin to search mine pushes on me the sudden urge to look away.

"I love you, Korra."

"I know," I return. I mean for it to sound teasing, but the tone of my voice speaks differently. I find myself giving a small nod, swallowing before I speak again. "I know."

"I need you," he says quietly. "I'm not sure what to do without you."

"You'll do fine," I say after a long moment. "You're a good father, Mako."

"She needs her mother more."

This is not just about our daughter, I know, though he presents her as the crux of the issue. In one aspect, it's much simpler than that. Here we are now, just the two of us as it was in the beginning, existing for the briefest moment in our own little bubble. I remember our earliest days, where we were separated by our dormitories and I lay awake at night aching with this thing they called 'love'. I remember how his mere seeing me after the long, hard days of being a rookie police officer seemed to invigorate him and, no matter how dark his mood, bring a smile to his lips.

And now here we are, husband and wife, tied by vows and love and a bond so complex that I long ago gave up trying to fully understand it. It simply is, and we simply are. So I understand Mako's reasoning for opposing my leaving so persistently; he does not want to be apart from me. It is as simple and as complex as that. Mako has always craved companionship, and I am his friend, his lover, his confidant. When he tells me _he_ needs me, I alone know the truth of his honesty. But…

"I'm the Avatar," I say softly, watching the fires rise in his eyes. "The world –"

"The world should sort out its own problems," he cuts across me, and his arms tighten around my waist as he speaks. "Korra, your family needs you. I need you."

He is being selfish and unreasonable, a part of me thinks. How many times have I expressed my dislike of his leaving our bed at unholy times in the morning to go into work, or asked him not to stay back too late because I just needed to have him home and in my arms, only to be told that he was sorry and there was nothing he could do about it? Is this not the same? Why should he complain now, and so stubbornly?

But I say none of these things aloud. In fact, I say nothing at all. Instead, I lean forward and embrace him, resting my cheek against his. Instead, as I close my eyes, I prepare myself, because I realise that I've already made the choice. And Spirits, I know what making this choice has earned me.

Mako holds me close and does not speak. Only when I murmur that I should check on our daughter does he eventually let me go.

We collect the rest of our clothes, returning scattered fruit to the basket and arranging wayward sheets of the newspaper before putting it back on the table. Mako follows me up the stairs, and our footsteps are the only sounds made between us. Our daughter remains blissfully unaware that her mother and father stand beside her cot looking down at her. She does not sense the tension in the silence that dwells between us.

"I think she's going to be a waterbender," I say then, breaking it.

"Mother's intuition?"

I shake my head. "I was playing with her earlier, showing her waterbending," I explain quietly, my arms resting along the edge of the cot. "She was copying my movements," I say, smiling at the memory, "and I think I saw her waterbend too, just for a moment."

"You think," Mako says.

I pause, and then shake my head once more. "No, I'm sure."

He relents and laughs softly. "Five months old, and already bending. I suppose that's what happens when your mother is the Avatar."

I close my eyes and release a long sigh when Mako turns and leaves the room. When I open them again, I bring my hand down to touch hers, smiling when her loosely curled fingers tighten around my thumb.

"That's right," I whisper, my smile fading as I regard her. "Your mother is the Avatar."

Forgive me, sweet child of mine.


	8. Chapter 8

I once asked my mother how she did it, how she gave up her only child to the White Lotus. She told me that for a long time, she did not want to. She kept me a secret even when the White Lotus' first representatives came to visit our village. My father disliked our lies and secrecy, but my mother was adamant. She would not give up her daughter. So I asked her what changed.

She told me that one day she slumbered long and fitfully, and that she dreamt of a world without its Avatar. What she saw in that dream, she has never told me, but my mother said it scared her. It scared her enough that she could keep me a secret no longer, though she knew what it would mean. She had to decide between her own heart and desires, and the needs of the world. The latter outweighed the former, she said, and so she gave the world its Avatar.

In exchange for her sacrifice was years of pain, bitterness, and a marriage that threatened to dissolve. I remember asking how she kept it all together, how she stayed strong enough to press on, day by day. My mother told me she managed it only because she loved me. Though she didn't know how long it would take, she knew that one day she would be reunited with me. I was the light at the end of her tunnel. That blessed day that she foresaw was all that my mother strived to see; I promise I didn't know I had made, but one I kept.

I think of all this as I look down at my daughter. She's sitting in my lap facing me, her hands gripping a small toy that she seeks to explore with her mouth. I have my own hands underneath her armpits, keeping her steady. She makes muffled noises as I lightly bounce my knees, often removing the toy from her mouth to babble unhindered.

"Ba ba ba…"

I sigh. Today is the day, but for her today is just like any other. She wakes and knows that when she complains, she will first hear her mother's voice and then see her, and I will pick her up and comfort her. That is what has happened for almost every single day of her life. She has come to expect it as the norm. But it will be different tomorrow.

"You and I need to have a little talk, sweetie," I say as she looks up at me.

"Ba ba ba," she replies, shaking the toy in the air as I smile.

"Mommy is a very special and important person called the Avatar," I say, "and she has a responsibility to help people all over the world."

My daughter, after having intently watched my lips move, gurgles as though in reply when I give pause.

"Daddy helps people too, but he works here in the city. So, when he is finished, he can come back home and see you," I continue. "Mommy works here as well, but sometimes she has to go far away to do special work. That means you won't see her every day," I tell my daughter, who seems to have discovered a new angle at which to explore the toy. "I won't be here tomorrow, sweetie, when you wake up. I can't hold you or play with you, because I'll be far away."

I frown as I watch her. A part of me wonders why I'm bothering with this. She is listening to me, I know, but I also know my words mean little to her. What's important to her is that she can see me, touch me and cry for me, knowing that I'll come to her. All that matters is that her mother, who keeps her safe, who feeds her when she's hungry, who makes her smile and laugh and is there the moment she calls, is here right now in front of her. But soon, I won't be. Soon she'll cry and I won't come.

It's that simple idea that I can't push to back of my mind, that my little girl will call for me and I won't be there to answer. What will she think of me? How will she feel? Will I be able to last a single day away from her, knowing that she'll be crying out her lungs for her mother to come back? And here she sits now, so innocent and oblivious. I have been the one constant in her life since the moment she first opened her eyes. She has depended on me so completely and now, suddenly, I will be gone. I don't want to imagine how that will feel for her, but it's the one thought that circles my mind again and again. But I have to be strong, like my own mother. Even if my little girl does not, _I _know that I will come back to her.

"I love you," I say. "I love you more than anything else in this world, darling. And even when I'm gone and you don't understand why, remember this." I place the tip of my finger above her heart, and she looks down at it. "I'm always with you, here," I tell her.

"Mama," she says, returning the toy to her mouth.

I'll find it funny later on how calm I am upon hearing this. I am well attuned to her babbling, and the sounds she commonly makes are 'ba ba' and sometimes 'ya ya'. This is the first time I've heard 'ma ma'. Thinking sensibly, this is likely just more babbling on her part. A happy coincidence as she expands her vocabulary. But I think I'm allowed, just this once, to pretend that it isn't. So there are beads of moisture at the corners of my eyes as I lean forward and kiss her brow, afterwards lightly resting mine against it. I smile as she gurgles, her hand finding my cheek.

"I'm going to miss you," I murmur softly.

I pick her up and settle her against my hip as I stand, taking a deep breath as I turn to the doorway of the living room. Mako is standing there, arms folded as he leans against the frame. He isn't smiling. He isn't happy about this at all. Neither am I, honey. Neither am I.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice toneless.

I nod. "Mm."

I hand our daughter over to him and take the car keys he offers me in exchange. I steel myself as I meet and hold his gaze. He wants to say something, and I know exactly the words that would fall from his lips. But he stays silent. There is no changing my mind now. The choice is made, and there's no swaying me when I decide to go through with it. If there is a characteristic that defines me, it's that I do not go back on my word. No doubt, the Earth King underestimated this about me.

I promised him, with good grace and courtesy I might add, that there would be hell to pay if I had to set foot in his kingdom.


	9. Chapter 9

"I really am sorry it has come to this," Tenzin says, sitting across from me once more in his office. "I honestly believed your missive would help alleviate some tension from the situation."

I shake my head and sigh. "You've no need to apologise," I reply.

Tenzin spends a moment to rearrange the papers on his desk. "The Earth King and State Council have been informed of your intentions and, within an official capacity, look forward to your arrival."

"And unofficially?" I ask.

"Word travels quickly, Korra," Tenzin says. "Now that you're making your move, there is a renewed sense of tension in the capital."

"I see."

My old mentor studies me after I speak. Aside from my husband and my father, he is the only other man who can read me well enough to see beyond my veil of calm.

"Korra, I know that you are well aware of how delicate the situation in Ba Sing Se is," he begins, "but I also understand how you are feeling at the moment."

"I won't, Tenzin," I say before he can continue, "much as I want nothing more than to physically straighten the Earth King and his Council out right now."

He smiles behind his beard, and nods his head. "Believe me, I understand the sentiment. Still, such feelings can come to the fore when we are physically in the presence of those who have pulled us away from our families, no matter how we try to quell them beforehand. Forgive me, Korra, but I must urge you to exercise your patience and self-restraint."

"I will try," I say, and then give a small smirk, "but I can make no promises, Tenzin."

He looks like he is not certain whether to impress upon me the seriousness of the situation or simply smile in response. Years ago, he would have almost immediately done the former. But I have proved myself more than capable since then, and so now after a long moment, he chooses to do the latter.

I take a deep breath as we rise to our feet. "How difficult will this be, Tenzin, saying goodbye?"

He gives pause for thought. "I prefer not to think of it as 'goodbye', per se," he replies, saying nothing more.

I think this over, and then slowly nod. "I suppose it isn't."

We are both in for a surprise when we return to the room where our families are waiting: Jinora, standing beside a single large bag in formal robes. She is a picture of elegance and grace, holding herself tall and straight as we enter the room. The tattoo depicting the mastery of her element is a vivid blue against the pale skin of her brow. Her hair grew quickly after she was ritually shorn, and she prefers to keep it in a tight, tidy bun at the back of her head.

Pema rises from the couch to stand at her daughter's shoulder as we approach, or rather as I and Tenzin stop still. Somehow, as I look at her, I am less surprised by the second. One look at her father however is enough to confirm that his surprise is better described as shock.

"Jinora?"

The room grows quiet, and apprehension is upon the air. I am perhaps more surprised that my own daughter, sitting in Mako's lap with Jinora's siblings gathered around him, remains silent. Tenzin looks from the packed bag to his wife and then to his daughter.

"What's going on here?" he asks.

"I'm leaving with Korra," Jinora answers, her tone respectful but firm. I fold my arms loosely and hang back as Tenzin steps forward.

"Excuse me?"

"I am twenty years old, father," she says. "I am an adult, a woman, and a master airbender. It is time for me to see the world beyond this island."

Tenzin, predictably, turns on his wife. I might have laughed were the situation markedly different.

"Did you have a hand in this?" he demands.

Pema is not to be cowed. "This decision is Jinora's," she says, meeting her husband's gaze, "and I support her in it."

Tenzin turns back to his daughter. "Jinora, I understand your desires, but I will not allow you to leave on a mere whim. You say you are an adult? Then we must make time and discuss this properly."

I watch with a quiet sense of pride as Jinora stands her ground. I am not ashamed to say that my brash and outspoken nature as a teenager rubbed off some on the shy and reserved young girl Jinora once was.

"With all due respect, father, I believe that I have thought this through more than thoroughly," she begins. "I have been preparing for several years now to take on ambassadorial duties, something which you yourself suggested to me. You have tutored me personally, and when you allow me to, I observe your work in Council meetings. Korra's leaving now presents the opportunity for me to observe both her and the ambassadors of other nations, experience that will no doubt be invaluable for me if I'm to become an ambassador myself."

"Do you understand the situation you would be placing yourself into?" Tenzin immediately interrupts. "The Earth Kingdom is rife with tension, and the capital is on the verge of becoming a dangerous place to be!"

"And I will be with the Avatar herself," Jinora smoothly replies.

The urge to smile is threatening to overtake me, but I refrain from doing so. I turn to look at my own daughter, reminding myself of the moment that Jinora has inadvertently delayed. I lift my eyes to meet Mako's, and we speak without words. He rises carefully to his feet, settling our daughter against his hip as he walks over to me. I wish to leave the family to work its own way through this without my potential interference or influence. Before we leave the room however, I meet Jinora's calm and determined gaze and hold it for a brief second.

I lead my own little family outside afterwards. I can feel my throat growing tight, and a pit gnawing itself into my stomach. Every step is one closer to the moment where I will have to turn and face my family. Each step brings me closer to the moment I quietly dread.

When it comes, I breathe deep and uncurl my fisted hands. Mako's eyes are already upon mine when I turn around, his mouth and brow tight. I look up at my husband, wishing this wasn't so. But it is.

"I don't want to do this," I tell him quietly. "I don't want to leave you. You know that."

Mako closes his eyes and releases a long, audible sigh. I can tell that he's been keeping that one bottled up for a while. When he opens his eyes again, the tightness in his face slowly melts away.

"I know, Korra," he says at last.

"I'm sorry," I begin, but he waves away my words.

"I knew what I was getting into when I fell in love with the Avatar," he tells me. "I accepted that I can't have you all to myself. You have a duty and responsibility to the world."

I place my hand over his as he holds our daughter. "I'm still yours, first and foremost."

"I won't forget it," he says with a small smile.

I playfully lift my eyes to the sky and shake my head. I bring my hand to his cheek afterwards and draw him down to my lips, sharing a brief but nonetheless meaningful kiss.

"I love you," I tell him once we part, "don't you forget _that_."

He laughs. "Stay safe, babe," he says gently.

"I will," I promise.

"And don't hurt him."

I raise an eyebrow. "Him?"

"The Earth King," Mako supplies helpfully, mouth curved with humour.

It's my turn to laugh. "Oh, I don't know about that," I say. "I already warned him that he would not like the consequences of forcing me to leave my family."

"Now I wish I had read that letter you wrote."

"It was a work of art, I assure you," I reply.

At this point, our daughter calls for attention. We both give it, Mako adjusting her against his hip as I reach forwards to stroke her cheek. Words are difficult to come by, and not for the first time I wish that I could cheat this moment. If she were asleep, I could sneak away, but she is awake and more than alert, her eyes focused on me, and I fear that she will cry when I turn and walk away. I have not held her since we left home. I know that if I have her in my arms, it will only make leaving more difficult, if not impossible. But I can do this. We can do this. We have to.

In the end, I lean forward and kiss her gently on the mouth. I whisper her name, my love and my farewell before I rise again, and when I do I encourage her to be strong and to behave for her father. I smile and take her gurgling as an affirmative response. And then I do what I had sincerely thought I couldn't. I turn and walk away, making for the path that will lead down to the island's pier. I strain my ears with all my might as the distance between us grows, but my little girl doesn't cry. What I hear instead is Mako talking to her, telling her I'll be back soon, so very soon.

I will come back, child. Never forget that I love you.

It's not something I understand just yet, but the further I walk down the path, the easier it becomes for me to breathe and place one foot in front of the other. I had thought it would be the complete opposite. I thought I would be tearing myself apart struggling not to turn back.

The boat is waiting beside the pier, two members of the White Lotus standing dutifully beside the gangplank. I wait at the end of the path, and after several minutes look up to see Jinora and her father walking down towards me. I can see the carefully restrained excitement in Jinora's eyes, and I can tell that she wants to laugh and probably run down towards her newfound freedom rather than walk. However, her father is a rigid presence at her side, and in him I can see the barely restrained urge to grab his daughter and drag her back up the path. Again, I must contain my own urge to smile, at least until the two of them have said their farewells.

"Let it be said that I had nothing at all to do with this," I say as soon as they come within earshot. Jinora gives a small, fleeting smile, and her father merely frowns.

"I am convinced it was entirely Jinora's idea," Tenzin says. "Only her mother knew of her intentions."

Understandable, I think. Pema is the resident secret keeper, after all.

"You're letting her come with me, then," I say to my old mentor.

"I am," Tenzin replies after a long, tense moment, turning to his daughter. "I know that Jinora is a capable young woman, and perhaps this moment is overdue in its coming about. I believe she is ready to face the world, and to represent herself responsibly."

As do I. But I don't say it aloud, otherwise Tenzin will be immediately suspicious.

"I'll keep her out of trouble," I say instead, glancing at the young woman positively brimming with anticipation.

Tenzin's expression grows stern. "I trust that will not be necessary. Jinora understands exactly what her role and function will be when she is with you."

I do not miss his emphasis on the word 'exactly'. Neither do I miss Jinora's struggle to keep her eyes from rolling. I struggle not to smirk.

"Don't worry, Tenzin. I'll look after her," I tell him. "If she misbehaves, she'll be on the first boat straight back home."

"Can we please stop pretending that I'm not right here?" Jinora cuts in then, looking slightly vexed.

At this, I finally do smile.

The two of them eventually embrace, Tenzin offering last words of advice to his daughter. Jinora has no doubt heard them already, but she listens patiently and accepts it with grace. I and Tenzin nod to one another as the young woman hoists her bag up onto her shoulder and, with initially tentative steps, walks towards me, and away from her father. Nervousness filters into her expression and stride, but I smile encouragement. After offering to carry her bag for her, I loop an arm through hers and together we walk towards the pier.

"How long have you had this planned, Jin?" I mutter.

"That bag has been packed for years," she murmurs in reply. "I was just waiting for the right moment to come along."

I chuckle quietly; both of us choose not to underestimate Tenzin's powers of hearing.

In truth, I am glad that she is coming with me. Jinora is the little sister I never had. At the same time she is a friend, and wiser than her years dictate. I will need those things in the coming days, a friend and good wisdom. My mind will often wander, and she'll help keep me focused. She'll help keep me calm when I feel like the boundaries of my patience have been pushed too far.

As we step onto the boat, I relent and pause to look over my shoulder. I have been telling myself not to look back, but I do so anyway. It's too far for me to make out any details at the top of the winding path, but I imagine that Mako is showing our daughter the boat where her mother is. I imagine the sound of his voice and the song of her laughter as he tickles her. I imagine him lifting her little hands to help her wave farewell. Already, I can't wait for the day when I will hold her in my arms once more. I plan to shower her with a kiss for each one that I am gone.

Hopefully, it will not be too many.


End file.
